


A Beautiful Form

by All_My_Characters_Are_Dead



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 04:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10678188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_My_Characters_Are_Dead/pseuds/All_My_Characters_Are_Dead
Summary: “Nohebi’s number twelve has a beautiful form,” Yaku had said during the match, while he was stuck on the bench with his injured ankle.Yaku was wrong.Nohebi’s number twelve had a beautiful everything and Yaku was suffering.





	A Beautiful Form

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A_Sirens_Lullaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Sirens_Lullaby/gifts), [Fluffystorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffystorm/gifts).



> For my wonderful partner in crime and my cute kouhai who made me ship this now: this is your fault.

“Nohebi’s number twelve has a beautiful form,” Yaku had said during the match, while he was stuck on the bench with his injured ankle.

Yaku was wrong. 

Nohebi’s number twelve had a beautiful  _ everything _ and Yaku was  _ suffering. _

Nohebi’s twelve - Kuguri, Yaku thought he’d heard the other Nohebi players call him - was bending over their ace, who was getting his injured thumb looked at, and it  _ wasn’t fair. _ Kuguri’s hair shone, and really no one should have hair that perfect after playing a full match. And the light hit his eyelashes just right, leaving a little shadow on his cheek, and Yaku noticed moisture clinging to the lashes, like Kuguri had been crying. 

Yaku felt guilty for his team winning, since losing the match was probably what Kuguri had been crying about. Kuguri tilted his head, blinked, and that tear that had been caught in his lashes fell, leaving a trail shining down his cheek. Yaku wanted to wipe that tear away. 

Or maybe kiss it away. 

Kuguri straightened, and Yaku for once wasn’t bitter about someone being taller than him. The height suited him. It was nice. Kuguri turned toward him, and Yaku froze. Had he been caught staring? He should apologize. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

That was not Yaku’s voice. Yaku’s voice had never sounded that soft and sweet. 

Yaku would like to listen to that voice more. 

So he had to answer, had to get that voice to say something else. 

“Huh?” 

Yaku was so eloquent. He astounded himself, really. But really, who could blame him? Kuguri was facing him, much closer than he had been a moment ago, and Yaku wasn’t handling that well. And then Kuguri  _ bowed _ and Yaku was  _ not prepared for this, _ Kuguri’s hair wasn’t just brown like he thought, it was a glorious  _ auburn,  _ and it looked so soft Yaku really wanted to touch it. 

“I apologize for my team’s actions,” Kuguri said, still bent almost in half. Yaku struggled for words. Really, he did. He tried. He let out a confused jumble of sounds instead. “I know that my teammates come of as...”

“Assholes?”

Yaku wanted his confused jumble of sounds back. 

Immediately. 

Retroactively. 

Kuguri straightened and looked away. 

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” Kuguri agreed, his tone and expression more guarded. 

“No - that’s not - I didn’t mean...” Yaku groaned and then put his hands on his knees, attempting a bow of his own, which probably looked as awkward as it felt with him sitting and one of his legs stretched out because of his injured ankle. “Please forgive me.” Kuguri blinked at him, then smiled a little, a slight upward twitch of his lips that made Yaku’s heart soar. 

“It’s all right. My teammates may be assholes, but yours are delinquents,” Kuguri informed him solemnly. Yaku stared for a second, processing his words. Then he burst out laughing. 

“Yamamoto would be so happy you think our team is made of delinquents,” Yaku snickered. “He tries so hard to be the tough guy, but he was literally crying over a pretty girl a few weeks ago.” Kuguri’s eyes widened. 

“Which one is…?”

“Our ace,” Yaku told him, still grinning. “Number four.”

“The mohawk?” Kuguri shook his head. “He was so intense… I am sorry he got hit in the face, though. Is he all right?”

“His little sister was in the crowd. He had to play tough. He’ll be fine once he lets Kuroo get him some ice or something,” Yaku assured him. 

“Kuguri, we have to go catch the bus,” called Nohebi’s ace, apparently done getting his hand checked. Kuguri glanced over his shoulder, and the light hit his face just right again, right as he blinked, his lashes lit up like bits of sunlight as they brushed his cheeks, and Yaku was breathless again. 

“Coming, Numai-senpai,” Kuguri replied. He turned back to Yaku and inclined his head briefly. 

“It was nice to meet you, Yaku-san,” Kuguri said. Yaku opened his mouth to ask how Kuguri knew his name, but then Kuguri was pushing a slip of paper into his hands. “Here. I hope your ankle is okay. Good-bye.” Kuguri turned and hurried to his teammate at the door, and they were gone before Yaku could think clearly again because Kuguri had been  _ blushing _ and it was  _ the most adorable and beautiful and precious thing he had ever seen  _ and Yaku  _ wasn’t worthy. _

It was several minutes before his thoughts were coherent enough to wonder what the paper was Kuguri had given him. 

Yaku unfolded the paper and nearly fell out of his chair. 

There was a phone number, a note that read ‘You’re very cute and skilled. Text me,’ and the name  _ Kuguri Naoyasu _ written on it. 


End file.
